PURE
by synaesthesia
Summary: (thisisthewaytheworldends) You wouldn't want me crying, I never cried, no. No. And I'm crying now, Sakura. And I'm sorry.


It's hope, not angst. She's dying and he laments, but not quite. I know you know the story of the Phoenix? 

I don't own CLAMP's Cardcaptor Sakura, nor do I own T.S. Eliot's work.

  


* * *

PURE

They called to tell me the news; I had to get there quick, quick and fast.

I dropped her off at a local daycare so she wouldn't see her mommy dearest tied up to tubes with her veins showing. That decaying corpse isn't you though, I know that.

I walked in slowly-- or that's how it seemed. Slow, because I knew that's how life would be once this was done. I could still hear you calling my name. Calling my name, with the radiance you effervesced. But this time when your voice reverberated through me, you were crying. I could tell, because you never cried, and this voice was different. I was hoping this difference made it someone else, not you. But it was. After all this time, what kind of husband would I be not to know his sobbing wife's voice?

You were quoting something, I knew. The way you said it was mechanical.

You were murmuring, _I have seen the moment of my greatness flicker, and I have seen the eternal Footman hold my coat and snicker. And in short, I was afraid._

Eliot. Maybe that's how I knew it was you. You read him often, before you were tied to that white bed.

I wanted to answer back, Do I dare disturb the universe? But my eyes were wet and I didn't know how to reach you. Maybe you were already gone, and that shell that lay in the room just a few doors off wasn't you, never had been you.

The doctor looked at me for a moment, and his voice was a dirge, "It's time. I'm sorry."

It's been two years, you know. Maybe I've been reading poetry and letters to no one all this time-- but I know you wouldn't let me do that. You were probably there. Maybe what I thought was you, still inside that body was really your light touching me, reaching me. Maybe.

I heard you, far off, again; _Too much to explain_, you weren't crying this time; you were firm, _because I do not hope to turn again, Let these words answer. For what is done is done, never to be done again. May the judgement not be too heavy upon us._

I watched the doctor loom over you, and I kind of coughed, Wait. Don't touch her. Wait. He was looking at me with impatient eyes, but he understood. I hope. He'd seen so much death, but your's was to be different-- because you were you. 

I told him to give me a moment, and I heard a sing-song voice that I hoped was yours, _There will be time, there will be time._

He nodded and told me, Take as much as you need, and left me with you. Or what I was hoping was still you. He closed the door behind him, and I heard him walk down the hall. Everyone, I think, in this ward was decayed. There was no sound other than the gurgling of machines that supposedly kept you with me all this time, but I know now I lost you two years ago.

You were so beautiful, and in death you are no different. Your skin is bronze, like something King Midas touched himself. But I look at you and think someone melted pearl over your body. A mix of white and gold. Your hair doesn't shine like it had, and when I move to touch it, it doesn't have that same feel. This wasn't you, could never be. 

I wanted to bring her here, but I think playing with her friends at the playground is where she needs to be. Her mother isn't dying today, she died long before this. And that's what I'll tell her. She's never seen you, hooked up to these keep-alive machines; you'll be like your mother, in pictures, preserved for eternity. I'll tell her your stories, read her your poetry and let her have everything I can, everything of you. That will keep her going, keep her strong.

And me?

I'm living for her, now. And you're dying for her.

You're dead, for her.

What killed your mother killed you. A murder-demon living in your placenta, I suppose. You had your mother's body, small and frail-looking, but you weren't breakable like she had been. You were athletic and strong and living each day like you knew tomorrow would be there. 

You see, our daughter turned two just the other day. She lived and you died. She's like you, you know. Always smiling and calling me with light; Daddy, daddy. And I can't help but see you in her, calling; Syaoran, Syaoran. She's just like you. She walks in our room at night, and I swear it blinds me. 

And I feel like I'm failing you. I was supposed to be the strong one, keeping you safe. But because of me, you're dead. You're lying in front of me, your corpse. I look at you and I can't remember anything, I can't remember anything. Only the day I lost you.

You were shining and radiant, telling me about a room for the baby. We were sitting there drinking coffee-- mine black, your's was de-caf, sugary and brown with milk and honey. It made your voice thick and sweet, and I kissed you often that day, I'm glad of that. You were smiling and laughing, green eyes shining. You were shining. Radiant. You had the pains of birth. I remember how you dropped your coffee mug and it shattered into a million pieces. I think that's when you knew, maybe. You were crying. Pain was replacing your smile, you were clutching your round stomach, and lying on the floor as the coffee and the lining of your uterus pooled around you. You were calling my name, but I think you knew. The happiness that you assured me wasn't present in your voice.

And then you were thrashing on the bed, the doctors trying to hold you still, saying they couldn't find the head and asking, Were there any problems with her mother? And I knew then that this wasn't right, something was wrong. When they cut the baby from your womb, you were too still and I didn't like it. I was looking at them, blades in my eyes and I was yelling, What happened, why isn't she smiling?! I was screaming your name and crying. Our baby was cooing softly, not crying like I knew she should be. Why wasn't my family laughing and crying, out of joy instead? I was praying, Don't leave me. Stay. I love you. Sakura, Sakura. 

And now I'm here at the would be-you's side, holding your cold hand. No, this isn't you. I should have known that sooner, it would've saved your body time and grief. It would've saved you grief. I don't think you wanted me to have to lie to her and tell her I was going to work when I was really coming to see her dead mother. No. You wouldn't want me crying, I never cried. No. 

And I'm crying now, Sakura. And I'm sorry. 

"In this valley of dying stars--" I kissed your hand. I love you. I always would. 

_ Life is very long._

But not for you--

_For thine is the Kingdom,_

I was crying in to your body, listening to you push me on. You were ending this for me, I knew. You were always like that. I was touching your hands, your face, your lips. They were and they weren't you. I have to let go. You've got to go. I've got to go.

I called the doctor in, I can hear his footsteps again. But they're coming, not leaving. Coming to take this from me. 

_ This is the way the world ends._

Did you know I've loved you forever?

_This is the way the world ends._

And eternity's next in line.

_This is the way the world ends._

Our daughter will know everything about you, I promise. Her mother. My Sakura. I love you. 

_ This is the way--_

"I'm sorry for your loss." The doctor said as he bent over you again. He's done this so much, he's used to death. He doesn't know what died here two years ago. He doesn't know. His hand was at the plug and he hesitated.

"She was a very special woman."

_This is the way the world.._

Was. Not is. You are gone, but I know you'll be with me forever. You'll be with both of us, and I'll love you, for as long as you're with me. Until I'm with you again. Then, then I'll love you for eternity.

_Not with a bang---_

He pulled out the cord and I heard the machine fizzle out and die, just like you had that day. I became aware of the smell of honey and coffee, and the sound of your voice and the whisper of my name on your lips that night, the night that contributed to your corpse. The I love yous came back to me for an instant, and in the quiet as the doctor fiddled with the instrument, as he stood to leave, in that quiet I heard you laughing again.

_Not with a bang, but a whimper._

I heard nothing else, and I would have thought I was alone if I had not felt you with me. Maybe that's why I'm crying, because I'm happy you're still at my side. Or maybe because now I know that mute, deaf paralyzed corpse really isn't you. Now I'm sure.

I stand and you stand with me. I look at what is supposed to have been you for all this time and back away; I turn. Don't look back. It's not you. I leave the chair out of place as I walk out, past the doctors and past the patients moving. Time isn't as slow as I had thought it would be. I'm back in my car and I'm going to pick her up. I see her there with flowers and ribbons in her brown hair. She's in the sun, in the light. She sees our old car and runs up to meet me. She's laughing, Daddy, daddy. I'm touching her hair and remembering you, but this isn't you. She's me, she's you. She's us. I look up to see the small garden where she got the Hyacinth flowers that were woven in to her hair like sunlight, and I'm blinded for a moment. The sun's so bright today---

but when I see again, when the flash fades, I see you. Standing there and waiting for me, and I know you'd been there all along. With her. And me. I pick her up and kiss her cheek, and walk to you. I can see your smiling face in the sun and I sit with her and pick the flowers, telling her, we'll put them in water when we get home.

I should feel like I've lost everything today, but I know you're still here. I watch her run through the grass with the other children and I know she could never understand, but I'll tell her you're in a beautiful place above, in the sky-- but here, also. Everywhere.

You're the flowers in her hair. 

_ When we came back, late, from the Hyacinth garden.._

You're the sunlight that touches here.

_Your arms full, and your hair wet._

You're my only hope. You're immortalized, in her--in me.

_I could not speak and my eyes failed;_

And you're everywhere, everything.

_I was neither living nor dead; _

You're the warmth I can still feel. You're the light. Always the light.

_And I knew nothing._

But now, everything.

_Looking in to the light, the silence._

She dances in the light that pours from your eyes, and I can hear you laughing quietly. And far off, far off in the distance, I know you're with her, swinging her around with your invisible hands. I know you're there, because the sun's still shining.

And now I know everything. Now I know what you meant about there being time.

_ I love you. Life is very long. I love you._

Now, I know everything.


End file.
